


Seminar

by ponticle



Series: Coffee Shop Universe [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, Cheating, F/M, M/M, Medicine, Memories, Miscommunication, Old Flames, Old boyfriends, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Seminar, Sex, Sexual Content, medical seminar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponticle/pseuds/ponticle
Summary: Welcome to the second-to-last challenge in this universe!Anders wakes up the morning after Chapter 4 (of the Main Story) and evaluates his actions. The next 9 chapters take place over 9 consecutive morning/afternoon/evenings.Go read the main story,Coffee Shop, first.Note: if you want to do the whole thing in order, there is a linked, ordered, guide in the description of the main story.People who have read the side story,Trust Me, will have more context.





	1. Seminar: Day 2, Morning

* * *

**Seminar, Day 2: Morning**

 

* * *

 

From 2am on, I wake up every twenty minutes—sweaty and confused from more nightmares than I'm able to count. Every time I’m coherent enough to understand where I am, I find myself thinking about Alistair. It _isn't_ pleasant, even though the sex we just had was great. Instead, it's a self-effacing litany of anxiety and regret.

I think about calling him a hundred times, but I don't. Somehow, I make it to 6am without losing my mind. My shower is cursory and I can't figure out what to wear. On the off-chance that I see Alistair again—it seems unbelievably unlikely at this point—I want to look hot… I just can't remember _how_.

After 4 outfit changes, I realize I'm late and sigh at myself in the mirror.

“Well, Andy… this will have to do…” I say aloud.

_Great. This is what a sane person does._

 

* * *

 

When I _do_ see Alistair, I’m instantly sweaty. After what happened last night, I can’t _believe_ he hasn’t left the conference early.

“Hey,” he smiles. He’s sitting at the same table we occupied yesterday morning.

“Hi,” I brush a hand through my hair and drop my books. “How are you?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Kind of _sore_ … you?”

I almost choke.

“But I’m doing great,” he bites his bottom lip.

“Me too…” I smile. “Can I get you a coffee?” I notice his cup is empty.

“I’m set, actually—I’m going to be _vibrating_ if I have more caffeine,” he laughs.

It is taking all my willpower to _not_ straddle him in that chair and shove my tongue in his mouth.

“So where are you going today?” he asks.

I’m still lost in my thoughts, so I make a face.

“...which _session_?” he adds.

“Oh,” I laugh awkwardly, “I’m going to McKenzie Method for the Cervical Spine.”

“Me too,” his eyes light up.

“Then, can I walk you?” I ask.

“Yeah; you can be my partner, too,” he offers.

I know he means ‘ _for the purposes of demonstration and practice_ ,’ but my breath catches at that _word_.

“Okay,” I smile.

 

* * *

 

We slide into chairs in the third row on the end and wait while the classroom fills in. I spend some time re-arranging my notebooks and pens. I have an outline of the upcoming lecture already printed for note-taking purposes. I pretend to be highly interested in it.

“After the sessions today,” he leans in and whispers, “I’d really like to have dinner with you.”

I turn to look at him. My face must look like a mask. “ _Why_?”

His brow furrows. He opens his mouth like he’s going to explain himself once and for all, but he doesn’t manage to get anything out because the presenter flicks off the house lights so we can see her powerpoint and starts talking.

_Damn it_.

Alistair writes something on a shred of paper and passes it to me across the desk—like we’re in _middle school_.

**Alistair** : did you get my texts last night?

I’m not sure how to respond. I think I have to stick with the ‘ _I fell asleep_ ’ story. I write back to him surreptitiously.

**Anders** : I got them this morning. I pretty much passed out after you left.

**Alistair** : I’m not surprised… you were amazing.

He has circled the word _‘amazing’_ twice.

**Anders** : so were you.

I’m blushing. I’m so glad the lighting is low.

**Alistair** : I was still thinking about you late into the night, though…

I look up at him and raise an eyebrow. _Does that mean what I think it means?_

He nods.

Something pulls tight in my guts.

**Alistair** : so about dinner?

I don’t know what has come over me. I want him so much, it’s painful.

**Anders** : okay… and then?

Alistair smirks as he writes back.

**Alistair** : we’ll see… it depends how long I can control myself…

The shiver that follows goes straight to my groin. _Fuck._ I shift uncomfortably in my chair and try not to make a sound as his fingers graze my thigh below the desk.

Instead of doing something obscene, though, he just grabs onto my knee and squeezes it—as if we’re a regular couple; as if nothing bad ever happened that _ruined_ us.

I don't move away, but I resign myself to taking notes for the rest of the session.

 

* * *

 

Half way through the lecture, there’s a break. I’m about to ask him to explain himself, when someone I know sits down on his other side. It's Dorian.

“Hey there,” he says to Alistair.

“Hi,” Alistair smiles.

Dorian looks up at me, recognition dawning, “Hi, Anders. Have you _graduated_ already?” he jokes.

I laugh nervously, “Not quite…” Then I get curious—and I'm braver now that I once was, “What are _you_ doing here?”

He laughs deeply, “Avoiding my daughter.”

I squint at him. I have no _idea_ what he means. Alistair rolls his eyes at Dorian and turns to me.

“He's left Cullen at home to deal with their baby…” he explains.

_They have a baby? Oh my god, that's adorable._

“How old is she?” I ask.

Dorian grabs his phone and flips to a picture of Cullen kissing a toddler’s cheek. “That’s little Mia—we named her after Cullen’s sister… She's 18 months old… she came to live with us four months ago…” He is beaming with pride.

“Congratulations,” I smile. When he goes to put his phone away and pull out his reading glasses, I notice he's wearing a ring.

_They're married._

The phone suddenly buzzes just before it reaches his pocket. It’s a facetime call. Cullen’s face is splashed across the screen.

“Do you think we have a minute?” Dorian asks Alistair.

Alistair nods.

“Hey, Babe,” says Dorian. He moves the phone up until his portrait in the upper right corner looks picture-perfect.

“Hi,” says Cullen. I can hear a small child—presumably Mia—crying in the background.

“How’s everything going?” asks Dorian. I realize I’m looking over his shoulder at the screen pretty obviously. It might be considered nosy...but _he’s_ the one having a private conversation out loud in the middle of a crowded lecture hall.

“Going okay…” answers Cullen. “Mia really misses you.”

Watching Cullen’s expressions, I’m conflicted: I still sort of _hate_ him, but he seems _softer_. And… now that I’m doing _whatever_ I’m doing with Alistair—I can’t exactly cast the first stone where cheating is concerned. I _know_ about Icis and I’m doing it anyway—just like Cullen knew _about me_.

“Say _hi_ to Alistair and Anders,” says Dorian. He shoves the phone into our faces. I wave and smile stupidly.

“Hi Al,” says Cullen. “Hello, Anders—have you _graduated_ already?” he laughs.

“I already used that joke,” laughs Dorian, pulling the phone back in front of his face. “He’s in 3rd year… I think?” He shrugs at me.

I nod. “Third year.”

“Good for you, Anders,” says Cullen. He can’t see me, but I can see him—he genuinely looks happy for me.

“All right, I think we’re starting up again soon,” says Dorian.

“Okay…” Cullen clicks his tongue. “I _love_ you.”

“Love you too,” says Dorian. He’s trying to sound dismissive, but his cheeks turn pink. I _remember_ that internal struggle between being ‘too sappy’ and being honest. I _remember_ what it feels like to be in love.

 

* * *

 

The class resumes not long afterward. The question of _why_ Dorian is here still hasn't been answered, since this isn't remotely related to what he does, but I like being in class with him. He is great at making snide comments—and this presenter _deserves_ them. On the whole, it's a terrible class.

“Well, that's three hours of my life I'll never get back,” announces Alistair when we've packed up.

Dorian and I laugh and shoulder our bags.

“Where are you headed next, Anders?” asks Dorian.

“I'm not sure—where are _you_ going?”

“Dorian and I have to go to a presenters’ meeting during the next block…” explains Alistair.

I don't mean for it to happen, but I feel my face fall.

Alistair catches it. He reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder, “I'll meet up with you later, though, okay?”

I smile, despite myself, and wave goodbye to the two of them as they head off in the opposite direction.

 

* * *

 

Once they turn the corner, I frantically text the group.

**Anders** : HEEEELLLLPPPPP!!!

**Hawke** : what’s the matter?

**Anders** : I keep flirting with him. I can’t stop. I’m a maniac.

**Merrill** : why are you doing this to yourself?

**Isabela** : leave Andy alone—maybe this is what he _needs_.

**Fenris** : I doubt that.

**Isabela** : judgy-judgy.

**Hawke** : I think Andy can do whatever he wants… but I don’t think he’s going to _want_ the consequences of this.

**Anders** : you’re probably right.

I wait a tick—there are so many thoughts swirling around in my head, I can’t seem to get them organized.

**Anders** : Dorian is here too…

**Hawke** : oh yeah?

I laugh. I guess this might not seem like a totally weird occurrence to them—they probably don’t know how different our specialities are.

**Anders** : yeah… and guys… he’s married—with a _kid_.

**Merrill** : really? That’s so nice.

**Hawke** : I think so too… [heart]

I laugh. Hawke is buttering her up, because I know they’re thinking about kids themselves.

**Isabela** : is Cullen there?

**Anders** : no. he’s home with their daughter… we facetimed with him.

**Merrill** : really? What was that like?

**Anders** : Actually kind of _nice_ … he seems really happy. I still kind of want to murder him, though.

**Isabela** : well, that’s normal. Lol

**Merrill** : hate to ask this but…. is Icis there? _She’s_ a doctor too, right?

I’m pretty sure she isn’t here. Alistair’s behavior certainly makes it _seem_ like she isn’t, but now I’m not so sure.

**Anders** : I _fucking_ hope not. 

* * *

 


	2. Seminar, Day 2: Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair calls Anders on the phone to invite him to lunch. Anders deals with his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T: nothing racy... but Anders is conflicted, as per usual.

* * *

**Seminar, Day 2: Afternoon**

* * *

 

“Hey, we’re about to get lunch,” says Alistair.

He _called_ me on the phone. I was so shocked I almost didn’t pick it up. Texting is one thing—anyone with half a mind to cheat can do that—but _calling_ is entirely another.

“Okay…” I mumble. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.

“Do you want to meet us?” he asks.

“Oh… Where are you?”

“Just around the corner at a Mediterranean place,” says Alistair. He laughs and whispers ‘ _stop it_ ’ to someone in the background.

“What?” I ask.

“Sorry… Dorian’s being an idiot…” he laughs again, “Should I save you a seat?”

“Yeah… I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hang up. I am trying _not_ to think of myself as the center of the universe, but I really think Dorian was harassing Alistair _about me_ and I don’t like that feeling.

I walk outside and marvel at how nice the weather is. It’s January—back in Boston it’s probably six degrees and snowing. In Los Angeles it’s sunny and 70. I could get used to this…

Just a block away, I find the place. Alistair and Dorian are sitting with a couple other guys I don’t know at a table near the window—one is tall and thin, the other short and broad. Before I go inside, I notice my reflection in the window—I look really good: like someone I don’t know, but _want_ to.

 _Go get ‘em, Andy_.

“Hey,” says Alistair when he sees me. He stands up and pulls a chair back from the table for me. It’s on his right.

“Hi,” I sit without touching him, even though I _want_ to kiss him or at least touch a visible piece of his chest. He’s wearing a dark purple, deep-V-neck shirt and his skin looks _delicious_ in this Californian light.

“This is the student I was telling you about,” he says to the two men I don’t know at the table.

‘ _The student’? Is that what I am to him?_

They nod gently and reach across to shake my hand in turn. They’re both orthopedic surgeons. They practice in a group out in Oregon—it sounds very earthy-crunchy for surgery. I like it.

“So what made you want to come out here so early in your career?” asks the taller one.

I realize he’s putting me on the spot a little, but I’m okay with it. I may not be confident about my relationships, but I’m _very_ confident about what I do—I’m an excellent student.

“Actually, I’m part of a faculty-student alliance group,” I explain. “We’re working on spinal rehabilitation research… and I used to be a trainer before… so they selected me to attend the conference.”

They both look impressed—tall _and_ short—but not as impressed as Alistair does. He looks like he’s never been so proud. The horrifying thing is, I _remember_ that expression. It’s _because of_ that expression that I ever thought I could go back to school in the first place.

I smile at him subtly to let him know I saw. I’m not sure if he’ll know what it means, but he blinks a few times. I think it’s acknowledgment.

* * *

 

On the sidewalk, Dorian takes the tall and the short back to the hotel by way of a historic park—they’ve never been here before, but he has. I haven’t been here before either, but I don’t care about seeing anything as much as I care about walking down that street next to Alistair.

As we’re waving goodbye to Dorian, Alistair leans toward me like he’s about to grab my hand. For a second, I freak out, but nothing happens. We’re side by side, chatting idly a minute later.

“You did great with those guys—they’re sort of asshole-ish,” jokes Alistair.

“I got that impression, but I wasn’t going to say anything,” I smirk.

He nods. “Yeah… you know how _surgeons_ are…” he laughs, “I think they wanted to trip you up… but you handled yourself expertly.”

I blush.

“I’ve got to go to another meeting now… so... I guess I’ll see you later?” he asks.

I’m trying not to frown. “Yeah… See you.”

We go our separate ways in the lobby and he doesn’t look back.

* * *

**Hawke** : what are you doing now?

 **Anders** : trying not to fall apart

 **Hawke** : _besides_ that… are you with him right now?

 **Anders** : no… he had a meeting after lunch

I pause. I’m not sure how much I should say, but I eventually decide to blab everything.

 **Anders** : I’m still freaked out that Dorian is here...

 **Hawke** : why?

 **Anders** : because he probably thinks I’m _incredibly_ lame and desperate—throwing myself at Al like this.

 **Hawke** : Did he _say_ something?

 **Anders** : no…

 **Hawke** : did he do _anything_ to give them impression that he’s scandalized?

 **Anders** : well… no… He barely even batted an eye when he saw me. And Al has been _all over me_ —he almost _held my hand_ earlier today.

 **Hawke** : how do you _‘almost’_ hold someone’s hand?

 **Anders** : I don’t know… it was an _implication_ of hand holding.

 **Hawke** : That’s not a thing.

 **Anders** : _you're_ not helping.

 **Hawke** : give me something to go on and I'll help!

I drop my phone into my bag and take off toward another session. There isn't anything to do now but focus on my classes and try to forget that Alistair is here. I _doubt_ he'll call me later. He was probably just being polite.

* * *

 

I get settled into the next lecture and make friends with my new desk mate. She’s an intern at Washington University Hospital. She’s hoping to meet some contacts this weekend that can help her decide where to apply for her residency. She’s very nice and seems intelligent. I’m happy we’re desk-friends.

The lecturer begins and I go to put my phone away, when I notice that I have a series of unread texts. I assume they’re from the group. I open the notifications below the edge of the desk and almost gasp.

 **Alistair** : so I was just talking to a friend of mine… he says there is an awesome sushi place down the street.

 **Alistair** : [pin drop]

 **Alistair** : want me to make reservations?

(several minutes)

 **Alistair** : you’re probably paying attention like a good student…

 **Alistair** : I’m just going to make the reservation. If we need to, we can cancel it.

 **Alistair** : [opentable confirmation]

 **Anders** : Hi. You’re efficient.

 **Alistair** : that’s me. So do you want to go?

 **Anders** : I’m game.

 **Alistair** : :)

 **Alistair** : what should we wear?

I squint at my phone. I don’t know what he means.

 **Anders** : is it fancy?

 **Alistair** : I don’t know… I think a little.

 **Anders** : well, I don’t really have anything with me—I wasn’t planning on doing anything but sessions and studying all weekend.

 **Alistair** : you can borrow whatever you want from me.

We aren’t exactly the same size, but I love wearing his clothes— _loved_.

 **Alistair** : just come by my room when you’re done with that session and we can get you sorted out. It’s 2021.

 **Anders** : okay.

My palms are sweating all over the casing of my phone. This is terrible. I switch over to the group text, despite a suspicious look from my desk friend. She probably thinks I’m a _terrible_ student.

 **Anders** : I’m in so deep.

 **Isabela** : that’s hot.

 **Merrill** : I don’t get it.

A minute passes; I laugh silently to myself like an idiot.

 **Merrill** : nevermind. Hawke just explained it. You’re terrible, Bel.

 **Anders** : I want to ask him what this is all about—where this is _heading_ —but I’m afraid that will make it stop.

 **Hawke** : it might

 **Anders** : thanks… That’s just the encouragement I needed.

 **Fenris** : well, _someone_ needed to say it. You’re going to have to be straight with him.

 **Anders** : I’d rather be _bi_ with him.

 **Hawke** : nice one.

 **Fenris** : lol, you know what I mean.

 **Anders** : we’re having dinner tonight. Maybe I can talk to him before we leave.

 **Hawke** : you’re having dinner?

 **Anders** : yeah…

 **Hawke** : like… a date?

I blush. _Yeah, I guess it is like a date_.

 **Hawke** : why would he be taking you on a date if he’s married?

I like that word— _if_.

 **Anders** : I don’t know—but guys, I think I _love_ him.

 **Hawke** : what??!

 **Anders** : I know it sounds ridiculous… but I am crazy about him. I don’t think I ever stopped loving him for a minute.

 **Merrill** : wow.

 **Isabela** : do you wish you never broke up?

 **Anders** : No… not really… Breaking up was necessary at the time—I needed to go through this to figure out who I was… to find my bravery… to become a better person… but _now_...

 **Fenris** : if that’s how you feel, you need to _tell_ him that.

I know he’s right, but the prospect of being that transparent _terrifies_ me.

 **Anders** : thanks guys. I’ll let you know what happens.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm posting these chapters, I'm getting more and more excited about unveiling chapter 5 of the big story. 
> 
> Thank you soooo much for sticking with me this long. :) If you like this story and want to be a part of shaping my future projects, or just to chat, come find me on twitter, tumblr, or discord. 
> 
> Twitter: @ponticle  
> Tumblr: @ponticle  
> Discord: ponticle#8047


	3. Seminar Day 2: Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders goes to Alistair's room under the pretense of going out to dinner. (Earning our E rating here, folks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E: sex and anxiety... but this might be my favorite chapter I've published in a long time.

* * *

**Seminar, Day 2: Night**

* * *

 

The second he unlocks the door, Alistair is pulling my shirt off.

“Thank god,” I whimper.

He pulls back to look at me, “What?”

“I wasn't sure If you were going to want this again,” I blurt.

He looks at me like I’m insane, “Are you _joking_? I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he smirks, “I almost _scandalized_ those surgeons earlier...”

I feel one of my eyebrows quirk. I _think_ it’s a handsome expression.

He laughs, “I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you.” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in demonstratively.

His mouth feels so good—I think I might be dead.

“I don’t know, Al,” I gasp against his lips, “I think they might have _liked_ it…”

“Well, you _are_ super hot, so I guess watching you kiss _anyone_ could be a turn-on,” he teases. “Except I don’t want to _watch_ ,” he bites my lower lip.

I grab the hem of his shirt and force it off over his head. I _looked_ at him yesterday, but today I’m ready to really inspect him.

“ _You’re_ the gorgeous one,” I whisper, dragging my lips across his chest. “You have no idea how much I missed you…”

We both freeze. That was a bit much.

“You _missed_ me?”

We blink as time stretches unnaturally. This _might_ have been a fatal error.

“Yeah,” I manage.

He kisses me gently and puts his arms around me. “I’m glad you came up,” he whispers into my ear. “Let me show you what I have for you to wear.”

He lets me go and walks over to the closet. “...take whatever you want.” He sits on the bed and watches me while I scrutinize his clothes. Everything he has seems soft and worn-in. I want to wrap myself up in a heap of it and sleep for a week.

“What do you think about _this_ with _these_?” I ask, holding up a soft-looking sweater and a pair of jeans.

He squints, “They’re going to be big on you…but you’re going to look _great_.”

I laugh and turn toward the bathroom to change.

“Where are you going?” he calls.

“To change,” I answer, nonplussed.

“We had sex less than 24 hours ago… you’re not going to change in front of me?” he laughs.

“That’s a fair point,” I admit.

Now we’re at an impasse, though, because it feels _strange_ to strip my clothes off on display. In the heat of the moment, it’s one thing—now it’s entirely another.

“Come on, show me what they look like,” he instructs.

I turn away from him and face the wall. I can hear him laughing.

As I slide my pants down, he sucks in a little gasp. I look at him over my shoulder. He’s gently running his fingers over the crotch of his jeans.

“Just what do you think _you’re_ doing?” I tease.

“What comes naturally,” he quips. He’s snarky this weekend.

Instead of putting the clothes on, I drop everything on the floor and walk over to the side of the bed, kneeling between his thighs.

“You seem to be a little overdressed.” I run my palms along his thighs and end with my fingertips hooked over the edge of his belt. “Can I help you out of these?”

He bites his lip. That’s as good as a _‘yes’_.

I deftly unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip until I get him out of his pants. From this angle, it’s easy to remember why I like to go down on him so much. He is already _shaking_ in anticipation. There is no better feeling than knowing _you’re_ the one making someone else shake.

“I thought I was going to lose my _mind_ sitting next to you in those classes today,” he says.

“Fuck, I know…” I breathe, wrapping a hand around him.

He falters slightly, catching himself by leaning onto his hands behind him.

_You’ve still got it, Andy._

I rise slightly so I can suck him into my mouth and groan at how much he’s already leaking.

“God, Anders…” he moans. One of his hands finds its way to the back of my head. “You are so amazing.”

I hollow my cheeks and plunge down onto him.

He gasps. “You give the best head I’ve ever had,” he whimpers.

 _I know_.

I bob a little frantically after that last compliment. I have an idea that I’d like to have him coming in record time—give him something to remember the next time someone _else_ is sucking his cock.

_What a terrible thing to think._

I try _not_ to picture it, but in so doing, manage to paint the whole picture: Icis on her knees, Alistair’s perfect abs flexing with want.

_Fuck._

Alistair’s hand tightens against my head, which snaps me back to the present. He isn’t _trying_ to be a bully, but I know what that means. I pull on his hips until he’s standing and gently encourage him forward. The first few thrusts are ill-timed. I try to breathe through my nose, but I gag a little.

He looks at me contritely. “Are you okay?”

I swallow and nod, “I’m fine—come here.”

I let him line himself up and leave my jaw gently open. He sets the pace—it’s punishing, to be honest. I’ve never been so happy to be on the verge of choking.

“Andy…” he breathes. “I’m gonna…”

I grab his thighs in what I _hope_ is an encouraging gesture.

When he comes, it’s mid-thrust. I fail to catch everything in my mouth and feel a tributary drip down my chin.

He looks down at me and laughs. “ _Beautiful_ ,” he says, kneeling so we’re eye to eye. “Let me help you…” He does something I don’t expect—something I’ve never seen him do before. He runs the flat of his tongue from the edge of my chin to my lips. “Salty…” he makes a face.

I swallow hard and pull him against me. “That was ridiculously sexy…”

He raises an eyebrow and kisses me—his tongue mingles with mine inside my mouth. Instead of feeling like a moment out of a low-budget porno, it feels _intimate_.

“You are incredible…” he whispers. His forehead touches mine and we _blink_ —breathing the same air.

He bites his bottom lip and pulls me toward the bed. Last night, we didn’t even bother to get under the sheets. We were so desperate we fucked right on the bedspread, which, I’ve read, is the dirtiest item in any hotel. Tonight, he pulls the blankets back.

“Come here,” he gestures.

I slide into the bed next to him. He wraps his arms around me on my side. Face to face like this, it suddenly hits me: this is what our _lives_ used to be. I feel ill.

“ _Hey_ , are you okay?” he asks.

I laugh bitterly, “you always _could_ read my mind…” I roll to face the ceiling and sigh.

“What’s wrong?” he props his head on his hand and leans into my vision.

I can’t maintain a neutral expression for long. Just _looking_ at him makes me smile idiotically. “Nothing… I just can’t _believe_ we’re doing this…”

His dimples grow deeper. “Me neither… I’m so _fucking_ happy; you have no idea.”

I laugh. “I think I _do_ have an idea…” I wrap my arms around his waist as he looms over me.

_That’s it. I’m committed. This is a dream (or maybe a nightmare) but I’m not coming out of it anytime soon._

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, we’re staring up at the ceiling. I’ve come twice and—although it’s unlikely in my mid-30s—I’m starting to feel like my erection is returning _again_.

“I’m so fucking tired,” he laughs.

I turn my head to look at him and smirk, “I could go again…”

He laughs again. “You’re trying to _kill_ me, aren’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Well, we missed our reservation hours ago… want to get room service?” he asks, suddenly standing.

I sit up. “Yeah… I guess I can’t subsist on ejaculate alone…”

All this flirting _could_ be construed as adorable, but I know better: we’re just trying to avoid the inevitable conversations. The ones where we have to talk about our lives. The ones where he has to tell me we can’t see each other after this weekend. The ones where we have to deal with our collective guilt.

I stretch myself out across the bed while he orders. When he’s done, he curls himself into the side of my chest and kisses me.

“I ordered a bunch of random food… I have no idea if you’ll like any of it…” he admits.

I laugh. “As long as you got wine, I think we’ll be fine.”

“ _Of course_.” He kisses me again, “I still _know_ you, Andy…”

That’s it—I really _am_ dead.

* * *

 


	4. Seminar Day 3: Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up in Alistair's room. More E content... whoops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E: le sex

* * *

**Seminar Day 3: Morning**

 

* * *

 

Alistair wakes up first. He isn’t in bed when I first open my eyes and I feel really cold without him.

“Hello?” I croak.

“Hi,” he’s across the room, working on his laptop. He’s wearing only underwear.

“Have you been up long?” I ask.

“Not really…”

“You could have woken me,” I argue, sitting up.

“I had some emails to handle,” he smiles at me. “Besides, you looked so peaceful… I didn't want to wake you.”

That expression he's wearing has gone straight to my groin. It's one part charming, one part snarky.

“Well, now that I'm up, I have some ideas for you…” I crawl toward the edge of the bed to be closer to him. As the blankets fall away, I realize I have a huge erection. Whether it's from this conversation or a vivid dream is immaterial. What _does_ matter is that Alistair sees it. I watch his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.

He jumps out of the chair and pushes his boxers down over his hips. He’s similarly aroused.

I kneel on the edge of the bed and reach for him.

“Are you sure there's time?” he asks.

I look over at the clock, “We have like 15 minutes before we have to get in the shower.”

He nods and suddenly pushes me backward. He leers at me from my crotch. “You are so fucking hard.”

“I know… I want you so bad…” I breathe. “Want to sixty nine?” I ask.

“If you want,” he shrugs. “But I'd rather just suck you off.”

I shiver. I'm not sure _why_ he'd choose that, but I'm not going to argue. I haven't had a no-strings-attached blow job in forever.

When he first sucks me into his mouth, I feel like I'm _dead_ : this is surely heaven.

“Oh god, Al…” I moan.

He lets me go with a pop, “What do you want, Andy?”

“Lick me,” I beg.

He smirks, running his tongue along the length of my cock from root to tip. When he's done with one side, he moves to the next. It feels like a massage for every facet of my dick.

“I've never been so fucking turned on.” It’s a huge _lie_ , obviously. I’ve been continuously aroused since the other night, but that’s irrelevant. I’m lucky I can still form words.

I grab the blankets and chew my lips. It's taking all my willpower to avoid grabbing his head and forcing it down onto my aching dick.

He continues to lick—long, wet, trails of spit that leave me shaking and swearing.

“Holy _shit_ —fuck,” I whine. “I want you so much.” I try to sit up; to push him backward, but he resists.

“Let me have _you_ for a change.”

I pick up my head to look at him, “What does _that_ mean?”

“Just hold on a minute…” he smiles lopsidedly.

“Fuck… _okay_ ,” I let my head drop back and try to focus. I still don’t really know what he wants, but I’m willing to do _anything_ for him at this point.

He grabs onto my thighs and massages them in time with his sucking. I grind up toward him and try not to push too hard, but he feels so fucking good.

“Can I trust you not to move for a second?” he asks.

I nod, even though I’m not _sure_. I might accidentally follow him if he gets too far away.

He smiles. “Okay, stay right there… and _watch_ me…”

He crosses the room to the box of condoms that we paid a _million_ dollars for in the hotel lobby and grabs one along with a travel-sized bottle of lubricant. Before he gets back into bed with me, he strokes his cock a few times demonstratively. He’s leaking gently. I want to lick it off. I bite my lips and reach down to touch myself.

He smiles when he sees what I’m doing. He kneels next to me and coats his fingers before pushing them into his ass.

I gasp. “I love watching you do that.”

“I know…” he smiles. “I’m going to be so open for you.” He whispers that last part into my ear, which has me swallowing a scream.

He’s right next to me so I watch as he plunges his fingers in and out of himself expertly. He looks like he _loves_ it, too, which just makes this sexier.

“Okay, Andy?” he asks.

I’m at the point of jacking myself off where it’s slightly _torturous_ to stop, but he bites a bit of my neck and I know there’s something even _nicer_ in store. I nod frantically.

He hands me the condom and I roll it on.

That’s when he does the sexiest thing I can imagine—it’s my favorite way we _ever_ have sex, actually. He straddles me and _sinks_ —inch by inch—onto my cock. I can see how hard it is for him. His face contorts in equal parts pain and pleasure. He feels like a perfectly designed sleeve for my dick—I swear, it has never fit that well _anywhere_.

“Oh god,” he breathes. “Are you okay?”

“Of course; are _you_?” I wrap my hands around his waist and squeeze the skin reassuringly.

He nods. “You’re so _big_ —I forgot…”

I don’t know _why_ he’s bringing this up _now_ —we’ve fucked so many times this weekend I’ve lost count… but _still_ , I’ll never say no to a compliment.

I blush. “Thanks…”

He smiles and starts to rock. He feels so tight I can barely stand it. My inclination is to thrust up into him, but I decide to let him set the pace. Instead, I let my hands wander and grab onto his cock with both palms.

He gasps and starts to smile. We’re in the swing of things now.

“I want you to come,” he says. He hasn't stopped moving—he often manages to have whole conversations with me while we fuck.

“I’m _definitely_ going to,” I laugh. “You don’t have to _worry_.”

As soon as I’ve said that, I realize _why_ he’s nervous, though. There was a period when I couldn’t come _in him._ Granted, we didn’t use condoms back then, so it was a lot more _symbolically_ intimate, but still.

I reach up to put a hand on his cheek so he’ll look at me.

He stills slightly—he’s gently riding me.

“Let’s just forget about what used to be…” I crane my neck to kiss him. He meets my lips. “We’re new people—and I am telling you, I’m going to come so fucking deep inside you… I’m actually _scared_ for your safety.” I smirk.

He laughs, which shoots straight to my dick.

I hiss, “Oh god, Al… just _fuck_ me.”

 

When we come, it’s intense. I feel myself nearing the edge just as his cock starts to leak all over my chest. I pick up the pace and stroke him until he comes in a line from my stomach to my neck. It’s hot and thick and _incredibly_ sexy.

In the afterglow, we laugh at what a _fucking_ mess this is and how _fucking_ late we are… but we’re _together_. We’re a _pair_ —side by side on an unfamiliar bed. I’ve never felt so _whole_.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two NSFW chapters back to back? Is that even _allowed_?
> 
> Tomorrow we're going to get back to the matter at hand. Andy just isn't ready to have those conversations yet...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Seminar, Day 3: Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Alistair finally emerge and get back to classes. On his own, Anders remembers Karl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M: obligatory Kanders flashback and angst... and language...
> 
> Updated tags

* * *

**Seminar Day 3: Afternoon**  

* * *

 

In order to fulfill my requirements at this seminar I need to attend a certain number of sessions. The morning session today just _didn’t happen_ —I’ll need to make it up tomorrow. It was _totally_ worth it, though…

Dorian is in the lobby when we finally make it downstairs. He looks us over appraisingly.

“Finally decided to join us, I see?” he clicks his tongue.

Alistair hits his arm and laughs, “Don’t you have a toddler to check on?”

Dorian smiles, “Cullen has that under control.”

“Does that mean he told you to stop calling because you’re making him insane?” Alistair smirks.

The three of us walk side by side to a lecture hall on the far end of the hotel. I haven’t consulted my schedule at all, but I’m afraid to say anything, for fear of being noticed. At least only Alistair has been harassed _so far_.

“You’re coming to _this_ class?” asks Dorian.

“Uh… yeah?” I stammer.

Dorian squints at me, “You’re interested in ‘curriculum planning for the advanced resident?’”

I blush. I guess the question of why Dorian is here has finally be answered—for the clinical direction classes.

“Oh… I guess not,” I stumble.

Dorian shakes his head and goes inside, leaving us alone in the hallway.

Alistair looks at me pityingly. “I’ll see you later?” he whispers.

I nod. It seems like we’re going to do nothing _but_ see each other. It’s horrifying, but I _love_ it.

“Text me when you’re done,” he adds, kissing me on the cheek.

When he disappears, I’m left feeling warm and tingly where his lips were. Fucking in private is one thing, but a kiss in the middle of an academic setting is _entirely_ another. Granted, it’s not very professional—but it shows that he’s not embarrassed of me. It shows that he values me. _I’m dying._

* * *

 

 **Isabela** : Andy… update?

 **Anders** : the shit is currently hitting the fan.

 **Isabela** : does that mean his wife showed up and you’re being held hostage?

I laugh, even though it’s a _terrible_ joke.

 **Anders** : no… we are just fucking our brains out and he kissed me in the hallway…

 **Isabela** : is that a euphemism?

 **Anders** : no… lol

It occurs to me that she hasn’t used the group text. That’s unusual.

 **Anders** : why did you only text me?

 **Isabela** : you know how judgy they are… I want to know how you _really_ are.

 **Anders** : thanks, Bel… to be honest… I’m happier than I’ve been in ages.

 **Isabela** : As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Keep me updated.

 **Anders** : will do.

 **Isabela** : And… if you want to tell me any details… I’m totally open to that.

 **Anders** : oh god… I have to go… See you!! [heart]

 

* * *

 

I look up and try to figure out which sessions are starting in my immediate vicinity. I settle on one that has to do with advanced imaging guidelines. When I sit down, I realize my desk friend from yesterday is also in this session. She smiles when she sees me even though I texted all the way through our lecture yesterday.

“Hi again,” she says, as we settle in.

“Hi,” I grin. “What’s your name again?”

“Carly,” she smiles. “You’re Anders, right?”

I grin and nod, but I feel like I should address the elephant in the room—or maybe it’s just in my head—either way, I don’t feel good about it.

“I’m sorry about all the _texting_ yesterday—I hope the lighting didn’t bug you…” I mumble.

She laughs musically. “Don’t worry. It seemed like it was important.”

I smile, “Thanks. Well, today, I won’t be doing anything like that. I’m putting my phone away.”

We nod to each other before the presenter turns off the house lights. It’s a good thing I don’t have any text emergencies going on right now—radiology lectures are always taught in relative darkness so that the class can see the films. Emerging from one feels like being _reborn_. It actually reminds me a lot of the darkroom in college. Karl, my college boyfriend, studied photography.

 

* * *

 

**Over a decade ago**

 

“Are you sure we should be in here?” I whisper.

Karl closes the door behind us and flicks on the red light.

“I mean,” I continue, “what if someone _catches_ us?”

He laughs, “Catches us doing _what_? We're developing film…” He holds up his camera and smirks. He's all about classic photography techniques—no Nikon digital camera or photoshop retouching for him. Everything he shoots is _raw_.

“Oh… is _that_ what we're going to do?” I tease. “Here _I_ was, thinking you wanted me to suck your dick… I guess not…”

I step away from him toward the door, but he grabs me around the waist and pulls me back.

“Please stay,” he whispers through my hair.

I nod and turn in the circle of his arms.

“Besides,” he kisses me, “don't you want to see these photos?”

I nod. I _do_ , actually. They're from a weekend in Rockport. We took a trip out there to see the ocean. We weren't afraid of seeing anyone we knew, so Karl was more at ease than usual. I'm still not used to the fact that he isn't out. That weekend was one part perfect and one part tease—I wish I could have him like that all the time.

He mixes the chemicals and begins a complicated series of reactions until he has developing photographs hanging all over the room. I'm careful not to let them drip on me, but I get pretty close. I want to see what they become in real time.

“So… what do you think?” he asks from over my left shoulder.

“You made me look like a model,” I'm trying not to sound prideful, but I've _never_ seen myself look like that. My hair is a tangled, wavy mess of salt and sea air. In the first panel of this group, it's whipping across my cheek. My shirt’s collar is unbuttoned to the middle of my chest and the sun is highlighting a particularly smooth patch of skin at the base of my neck.

“I didn't have to do anything—I just caught you in the act of looking beautiful,” he says.

I'm sort of dumbfounded.

“...which _wasn't_ hard because you look like that all the time,” adds Karl.

I’m blushing.

“Look at this one,” he pulls another one down from the line and holds it up to the light.

(It’s kind of like a selfie although we didn’t have that word back then.) He’s kissing my cheek while I squint up into the lens. We look so _happy_.

“The sunshine was really good for us…” I mumble.

He puts a hand on my cheek and looks at me pointedly. “I know that it was easier there… that it felt _better_ for you… I’m sorry…”

“—don’t,” I interrupt. “I just want you—in any scenario I can get you…”

He smiles.

“...and if that means I have to fuck you in this darkroom,” I wrap a hand around to grab a handful of his ass. “...then I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.”

“No one is suggesting that, Anders…” he laughs.

“Come _on_ , Karl… you don’t have to twist my arm… I said I’d do it!”

He cackles, even as I kiss his neck.

 

* * *

 

**Presently**

Karl was really nice. He was a genuine person with good intentions; he was _kind_ to me. He never cheated or made me wonder if he really wanted to be with me. When he had something to say to me, he _said_ it… and even though it didn't last forever, he was _good_.

Alistair is a huge mess. Everything we do is a _nightmare_ —but I never loved Karl like I love _him_.

Despite my promise to my desk friend, I pull out my phone and type a text.

 **Anders** : I’ve been having the most amazing week with you.

He writes back almost instantly.

 **Alistair** : me too.

* * *

 


	6. Seminar: Day 3, Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Alistair have a frank conversation... but not the one they _should_ be having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M/E: No explicit sex... but they're talking about sex... and language and whatnot.

* * *

**Seminar, Day 3: Evening**

 

* * *

 

 **Alistair** : meet me up in my room?

 **Anders** : okay. When?

 **Alistair** : now?

I laugh to myself.

 **Anders** : eager?

 **Alistair** : ...yes...

 

* * *

 

His room is nicer than mine, naturally—I’m a student; I'm basically destitute. It has a soaking tub. I was lusting after it during our shower this morning—staring at it across the room, imagining its sexual implications.

“Want to order something?” he asks.

“Yeah, definitely,” I flop across the corner of the bed on my stomach and page through the menu.

He rolls in next to me and kisses my cheek. “The trouble with room service is, you have to be _dressed_ to receive it…”

I laugh.

“And it’s going to be _really_ hard to stay dressed for the next thirty minutes,” he smirks.

I know he’s joking, but he’s giving me an erection already. The number of times I’ve ejaculated in the last 48 hours should be _illegal_.

“Instead of eating, could we take a _bath_?” I ask.

“How about in addition?” he smirks.

“Okay… but maybe bath first?” I stand up and walk toward the bathroom.

He nods and follows me.

 

* * *

 

The bath fills slowly. While we’re waiting, Alistair undresses me incredibly slowly—one item at a time. It’s almost like he’s doing it _with his mouth_. I manage to touch him in all the ways I know he likes while he’s doing it. By the time the tub is full, we’re rather desperate.

“Ready?” I ask.

He nods and follows me into the water. It’s, arguably, too hot, but I could tolerate any temperature if it means I get to fuck him. The only problem is—we’re _in water_. It pretty much negates safe sex. I know that condoms can, technically, be used in water, but it’s really hard to do _well_.

Just as I’m trying to think of a way to bring it up, he preempts me.

“Hey… I just want to throw it out there… I’m _clean_ … we don’t _need_ to use condoms…” he says. He doesn’t even blush—he’s using his most detached professional voice.

I want to be able to agree with him, but I’ve been with a lot of people lately—granted, I’m _always_ safe—but I haven’t _technically_ been tested since three partners ago. In spite of my ego, I know I have to tell him.

“I’m actually…” I clear my throat. “I haven’t been tested in a while,” I explain.

He looks slightly disheartened, but it’s _not_ a judgmental look. “How long is _a while_?” he asks.

I wish he didn’t ask that. I decide to tell him by number of partners instead of number of _days_. “I’ve been with three people since my last test…” I explain. “Two women and a man…” I’m not sure why I volunteered their genders—it just felt _nicer_ than saying ‘It’s been two weeks since I was last tested, and I fucked three _randos_ since then.’

“Okay,” he says clinically, “well, there are lots of other things I’d like to do to you…”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

He smirks, “Did you think I was going to throw you out of the bathtub?”

I laugh, “Yeah, a little.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me backward against his chest. I can feel his dick nudging me, but I know I’m supposed to ignore it.

“Tell me about the people you had sex with…” he whispers. His lips are brushing my ear as he speaks.

“What?”

“Tell me,” he bites a bit of my neck, “about the _sex_ you’ve been having…”

This is something we never did before—namely, because I never had that much sex before him. But right now, in this anonymous hotel room, in an unfamiliar bathtub, with his erection pressed against my back, it seems like it’s fair game.

“Which one do you want to hear about first?” I ask.

“Tell me in chronological order,” he says.

I laugh. He’s methodical without even trying.

“Okay… so first was this woman named Claire,” I begin. “She's an occupational therapist…”

He makes a face.

“Do you want to hear this or not?” I ask.

He kisses my cheek and pulls me in tighter, “Don’t tell me about them like they’re _people_ … just tell me about the sex…”

I smirk, “I get it—objectify and move on…”

We laugh.

“So she had this really short black hair—shaved underneath. I remember because I kept running my palm over it while she was blowing me,” I begin.

I feel his dick twitch against me. “Was she good at it?”

“Yeah, fantastic,” I answer. “She had like no gag reflex…”

He shudders. “What was her body like?”

“Um… athletic?” I’m trying to _remember_ , frankly. It was only a couple weeks ago, but what I haven’t told him is that I’ve lost _count_ of the number of sexual encounters I’ve had in the last six months. Everyone is starting to blur into one. For the sake of the story, I decide to invent some of the details.

“She has these really muscular, lean legs—and she's very tan,” I continue.

“And what did you _do_ to her?” he asks. He’s grabbing onto my hips now, kneading the skin attentively.

“Well, I reached down into her pants and ran my fingertips over her clit. She was so wet,” I add.

Alistair shudders.

“And then I pushed a finger inside her—deep,” I add. “She bit my ear and groaned.”

“And then what?” he asks. “How did you _fuck_?”

“Well… we were hooking up in the maintenance closet of the hospital so…”

He suddenly backs up to look at me. “You hooked up with someone _at school_?”

“I mean… not on _campus_ —but in the hospital, _yeah_ ,” I laugh.

“Oh my god, Andy,” he hugs me against him again, “You’re _crazy_ …”

I know he’s teasing, but I have to agree with him. Since Renee and I broke up, I’ve given up on relationships—I’m just a walking time bomb of sex and recklessness.

“So you banged her against some mops and a bunch of cleaning supplies fell off the shelves and then the janitor found you?” he asks, smirking.

I jab him in the ribs and laugh. “I sat her on a shelf, for your information… and nothing _fell_ on me.”

He coughs, but he’s smiling. “Who’s next?”

“You _really_ want to keep hearing this?” I ask. He seems like he’s getting _jealous_ , not turned on. Of course, that seems ridiculous, considering I can picture (with photographic accuracy) what his _wife_ looks like and the faces he probably makes when he’s inside her.

“Just tell me the highlights…” he kisses my neck again. “Who was the guy?”

“He gave really bad head,” I blurt.

Alistair laughs.

“Seriously… it was all teeth and cold breezes—definitely not worth the fact that I can’t bang you in this water right now…” I turn around to face him wrap my arms around his neck. “I want you so much it _hurts_.”

“I know… but just keep it together long enough to get out of this bathtub and you can bang me all night,” he smiles. “Or I can bang you… if you prefer?”

“Yeah? Is _that_ what you want?” I ask. I’m _wary_ of that suggestion, for reasons I don’t want to think about, let alone _tell_ him.

He shrugs. “Not necessarily… I know it’s not really your thing… but it’s been a while—I’d like to get to know what your ‘thing’ is _now_.”

I nod. I’m _relieved_ , actually.

* * *

 

For the next half hour, we kiss and rub and cuddle—until we’re getting wrinkly. Eventually, we make our way to the bed and make love. Despite our conversation, neither of us penetrates the other. We just come side by side. And it’s _still_ amazing—the best non-sex/sex I’ve had in ages. My heart _aches_ thinking about the conclusion of this weekend.

Eventually, we fall asleep next to each other. I had every intention of going back to my room tonight, but I never make it there.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow's chapter is more _serious_ , along the lines of the thing Anders '...doesn't want to think about, let alone tell him.' I'm going to put a bunch of tags in the beginning notes section, but they don't apply to the entire work, so I'm not going to add them to the work tags. Just fair warning. :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Seminar: Day 4, Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wakes up in Alistair's room and everything seems to be going perfectly until he's reminded of something horrible. Anders realizes that he can be transparent with Alistair--even about serious topics.
> 
> As I mentioned yesterday, a couple trigger warnings apply to this chapter, but not the work overall: past assault, past sexual assault, triggering situations, painful memories, etc. Use your best judgment. (FYI, you can read all the way through their run in the park before you'll encounter any of these topics.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M: mature subjects, language

* * *

**Seminar day 4: Morning**

* * *

 

When Alistair’s alarm goes off, I’m confused. I find myself buried in a mountain of unfamiliar pillows and choking on a lock of my hair that is inexplicably in my mouth.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers in my ear.

Suddenly, I realize where I am and the whole _world_ feels better. He lets the weight of his torso crush against my back and drapes an arm over me. I crane my neck to kiss a bit of his cheek.

“Hi,” I mumble. “What time is it?”

“Time to get going… I’m having breakfast sent up,” he announces.

I manage to sit up and get my tangled hair out of my eyes. “What did you order?”

“Eggs, toast, bacon,” he lists, “and _tons_ of black coffee for you.” He leans in to kiss me.

This morning is surreal. I want to live with him in this fantasy forever.

“So how’s your job going?” I ask suddenly.

He’s pulling shorts on as he answers, “It’s going great, actually…” he smiles. “I’m the director of my program now…”

I smile at him, “That’s great.”

Of course, I only meant that as a warm-up question… to be closely followed by, ‘ _So… about your wedding?_ ’ but I lose my nerve and don’t ask.

“You know, I _knew_ you wanted to do this,” he admits.

I have no idea what he means. _Have sex?_ Yes, please.

“—non surgical spine?” he adds.

 _Oh. That_.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“About six months ago… I got a letter from BU saying they had a student they wanted to match with me…” he explains. “I’m sorry to say… I told them no.”

My face falls. “I understand _why_ , of course.”

He nods, but he looks sad. “Still—I had this stupid fantasy about working together…”

My cheeks feel warm at the suggestion. Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door.

I’m still naked, so I grab the blankets and pull them up to my neck.

Alistair answers the door, and thankfully, I hear him say, “I’ll take that cart, actually, thank you.”

He rolls it into the center of the room and starts theatrically uncovering each dish. I love room service.

“That guy _really_ wanted to come in here and see you naked,” he jokes. “I can’t _blame_ him, but I won’t share you this weekend.”

“Good—I wasn’t going to say anything, but you’re _mine_ ,” I kneel at the edge of the bed and reach out so he’ll hug me. It’s a brave—stupid—thing for me to say, but I seem to be sliding further into this lie as time goes on. My grip on reality is failing.

“Later today, I hope you’ll let me introduce you to a few people,” he hands me a cup of coffee.

“What people?” I squint at him.

“You know… contacts… for when you pick your residency,” he adds.

“Oh... you’d do that?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course!” he smiles. “I want to help you however I can… I mean… I’d _love_ it if you’d just come be with me… but that would be inappropriate since we’ve been fucking all weekend.” He smiles.

 _Be_ with him? How would _that_ work? I'm starting to wonder if this is the warm up to joining him and his wife in bed. It's a _hard no_ for me.

“So what's your plan for today?” I ask.

“Well, my lecture is this afternoon,” he smiles nervously and sits next to me on the bed. He has half a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth, but he still manages to be the most handsome man I've ever seen. “I hope you'll come…”

“Of course I will,” I nod, sipping my coffee. “You're going to do great.”

He laughs. “I think Dorian is going to sit right in the front and heckle me… he used to do it in school whenever I had to give a presentation.”

“I had no idea he was such a troublemaker,” I smirk.

“Ha! You'd be surprised—all three of us used to get into trouble…”

I assume he means himself, Dorian and Cullen—the ‘three amigos,’ it seems.

He smiles at a spot on the floor, remembering. “I was the _worst_ , actually.”

I feign disbelief, “No! _You_??”

He pushes me with his shoulder and laughs.

“What were they like in school?” I ask.

He smiles, “Well… Cullen was a really _serious_ student—the most attentive in class, really disciplined about studying… I used to _try_ to study with him, but we always got sidetracked. I was a bad influence, I guess.”

I’m imagining the implications of ‘ _got sidetracked_ ’ without meaning to, but he keeps talking, so I suppress it.

“Dorian is naturally really intelligent,” continues Alistair. “He used to skip classes a lot, actually, but he still graduated Summa Cum Laude… bastard.”

I laugh.

“And then I was the most charismatic of our group, I guess,” he adds. “I was the president of our Campus Guides association and a teaching assistant for basically the entire time…I knew all the professors by name and a lot of the administrative staff...”

“You’re such a _nerd_ ,” I tease.

He shrugs.

 

 

“Hey…” He drops his plate onto the table and takes the coffee out of my hands. “Would you want to go for a run with me?”

“Right now?” I ask.

“Yeah… I'm kind of nervous… I need to _do_ something…”

I almost suggest some _other_ things for him to do, but I change my mind.

“Yeah… let's run.”

 

* * *

 

Outside, the air is crisp and breezy. It's a little warm for my taste, but it's better than dodging snow piles around every corner.

“How far do you want to go?” I ask.

“Let’s just see how it feels…” he suggests. The shirt he’s wearing is slightly translucent in the brightness of the sun. He looks _so_ good; I’m dying.

We start off at a moderate pace—it’s slightly slower than I would normally run, but we aren’t trying to race, we’re just trotting. I think it’s really hard to run with someone else, actually. It’s hard to find the right pace; it’s hard to stay in step; it’s especially hard to hold a conversation. With Alistair, though, we find our stride right away. Before I know it, we’re jogging in step amidst comfortable silence.

I’m not keeping track strictly of how far we’ve gone, but when we reach what feels like three miles, I tap Alistair’s arm so he’ll slow down.

“Had enough?” I ask. I’m panting, but not too much.

He nods and rubs his arm across his forehead.

We’ve ended up in the middle of a beautiful park. There’s a water fountain nearby, which Alistair leans over almost immediately. He splashes water across his face and pulls his shirt off over his head. I’m fine with it, but some women jogging past us almost trip.

 _That’s right, ladies… he’s mine_.

Except, he isn’t.

“Hey, so… should we head back?” I ask.

“ _Soon_.” He looks out over the park and sighs.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing… This is super beautiful,” he laughs suddenly, “we should _live_ here…”

I want to hug him and agree, but that’s a _really_ insensitive thing to say. I feel the corners of my mouth turn down.

He sees it and puts an arm around me. “I mean… not _really_ … we’re east coast people…”

That doesn’t help, though.

“All right, well, I’m going to be late if we don’t head back—I need to take a shower…” I announce.

We jog back in silence, but my mind is spinning the whole way.

 

* * *

 

We end up back at my room.

“I’m going to shower and change upstairs,” he says. “Can I have your key?”

I squint at him.

“So I can come back when I’m done…” he adds.

I shrug and hand it over. He kisses my cheek and leaves.

I spend a few minutes looking through my phone while the shower heats up and eventually put on some music. I’m moving slowly after that run. When the whole bathroom is steamy, I step in. Water soaks through my hair. I find myself watching rivulets circle the drain. Now that I’m alone, it occurs to me that this week has been _amazing_ , but I’m emotionally exhausted.

Suddenly, someone wraps an arm around my waist. For a split second I forget where I am and what’s going on. I shove him back into the glass shower door reflexively.

“Whoa,” Alistair shouts, “What just happened?” he looks horrified, “Are you okay?” He reaches out for me, but I sidestep him, banging into the wall behind me.

“Holy shit…” I blink the water out of my eyes and swallow hard. Something _bad_ happened to me in the time we were apart. I thought, after all the therapy, I was over it—or starting to be, anyway. I’m not sure what to say, so I mumble, “ _No_ , give me a second…” I breathe a few times—my heart is in my throat.

He reaches out to touch my fingers, but he’s wary. If I were him, I would be too—I just freaked out totally unprovoked. Frankly, it feels like that was someone else now that I’m coming down from it—some _damaged_ person.

“What is going on, Andy?”

“I just didn’t hear you come in… and—and I had a _really_ bad experience recently,” I admit.

He squints, “I’m sorry. What happened?”

I close my eyes for a second. I find the story I’m about to tell him _deeply embarrassing_ , for reasons I can’t really understand.

He looks at me gently.

It occurs to me suddenly that I _want_ to tell him. I pull on his hand until we’re sitting cross-legged on the shower floor. It’s not _comfortable_ , but I feel safer like this.

“I was sort of seeing this guy… Not seriously—we’d only hung out a couple times…” I explain.

Alistair puts his hands on my kneecaps and leans toward me. Water rains noisily in the space between our faces.

“...and I gave him my whole speech—” I raise an eyebrow at him, “you know—that I’m not really into being _penetrated_ normally… blah, blah.”

He nods.

“And this guy said that was fine… so we’d fooled around a little…” I clear my throat. It feels like something _hot_ is stuck in there.

“—so we are getting down to it in the shower one morning and he suddenly puts a finger in me—no warning…” I feel my muscles tense slightly—a physical manifestation of the memory. “So I tell him I’m not really _ready_ for that and I back away… but he _laughs_ … like I’m kidding—like I just need to be _convinced…_ He pushes me against the shower wall… my face is squished and there’s water in my eyes…”

I watch Alistair put the pieces together—he looks at where he just approached me against the shower wall above us.

“And it’s not like I’m struggling or anything—it’s not like I’m even saying the word ‘ _no_ ,’ but I _don’t_ like it… and before I know it, his dick is half way up my ass…” I continue.

Alistair shakes his head in disbelief.

“...and I _came_ , of course…” I admit. “So the whole thing just felt like I wanted it… I convinced myself I did later… and, as ridiculous as it sounds, that’s not even _why_ I didn’t see him again—not entirely…”

“How long ago was that?” Alistair asks.

“Like three months…” I answer. “I thought I’d already dealt with this with my therapist— _cried all the tears_ … but… I don’t know…”

He nods understandingly.

“I was mostly freaked out because it wasn’t safe… And I’ve been tested a couple times since then… but _still_.”

“Anders,” He cups my cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me you were _raped_?”

I swallow hard. Some part of me knows he’s right, but I don’t want to even _think_ that word. It hurts. “I just…” I shake my head, trying to think of how to explain it. “I mostly just feel _numb_ about it…”

He looks right at me—eye contact so strong I feel an urge to look away, “I’m _so_ sorry. I had no idea… I _never_ want to scare you… I was just trying to be cute and surprise you… and missed the mark horrendously…” His eyes widen suddenly, “Oh my god… last night… what I said—about fucking—that must have really freaked out you…I’m such an asshole.”

“—It’s not like that,” I interrupt. “you’re _different…_ ” I _want_ to assure him that the rules don’t apply to him—that I love him enough to let him do _anything_ to me. We have— _before_ … But I can’t find the words. My throat feels tight.

He pulls me into his chest.

“Alistair?” Even though I’m still shaking, I feel like he’s my shield. “I don't want this to color of how we are together…I’m safe—I’m _okay_. ” My throat burns with repressed sobs.

I realize suddenly that I'm talking about this like we have a _choice_ —like there is a _future_ out there waiting for us. I feel so pathetic.

But he doesn’t act like I am. He kisses my nose and cheek and eventually my lips until we find the humor in the macabre:

“This is so uncomfortable,” he laughs, but it's sad. “Are your feet numb?” I know he’s trying to make me feel better—I think it’s working.

I laugh through freshly formed tears. “So _fucking_ numb…”

 _Just like the rest of me_.

We laugh and kiss and it’s _over_ , somehow—like we _weren’t_ just discussing something reprehensible. He’s my panacea.

* * *

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Tomorrow's chapter, as well as the rest of this challenge and series, will be lighter. :)


	8. Seminar: Day 4, Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Anders recover from the revelations of their morning and Alistair gives his lecture. Anders can't decide if the group text is helping or hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T/M: nothing racy happens at all in this chapter, but the whole thing is still sort of adulty. ;)
> 
> I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who left a note on the chapter I was worried about yesterday. You guys are great. :) (and a big thank you to @earlgreyer who helped me flesh that one out.)

* * *

We spend the rest of the morning curled against each other in bed, whispering about anatomy and physiology—it's innocuous and it helps get my head back into a safe place.

Eventually, though, we have to go to a session. If I don’t do enough of these, I’m going to be in trouble when I get back to school. Alistair lets me choose which one. We slide into seats in the back of ‘Concussion impact on the cervical spine in adolescents.’ It’s interesting objectively, but not something either of us really encounters.

Alistair takes out his notebook and writes to me:

 **Alistair** : Be honest; have I been damaging you all week?

I squint. I understand what he means, but it couldn’t be further from accurate.

 **Anders** : No. I have been _so_ happy, actually.

Alistair doesn’t look convinced. He pulls the notebook back in front of him and writes something longer. It’s at an angle where I can’t read it as he’s writing.

When he passes it back, I grab it too obviously. The teacher probably knows we’re not paying attention—I feel like a jerk.

 **Alistair** : Andy… I just want to make sure you’re _okay_. And the more I think about this, the more terrible I feel. You’re _so_ important to me… and I just… if there’s anything you need, I want you to _tell_ me. Okay?

It’s a strange thing for him to say. I have a list of demands at the ready, but I will _never_ tell him those. They go something like: ‘get divorced,’ ‘move back in with me,’ ‘help me study for exams—preferably naked,’ and, ‘marry me?’

 _Yeah. I can’t say any of that_.

 **Anders** : Thank you for saying that. But I’m okay—I _promise_. Let’s just try to enjoy the time we have left together, okay?

I watch him read that last part. His eyes track from left to right. When he reaches the end of the sentence, he squints like he doesn’t understand what I mean. Then he looks up at me with the _strangest_ expression on his face—something between misery and outrage. I have no idea what it means.

The presenter starts to pick people at random from the audience to answer questions and we look up, the notebook forgotten and questions hanging in the air between us.

 

* * *

 

At the end of the class, we have lunch together, but Alistair doesn’t eat much. He’s just pushing food around on his plate, I notice.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I know I should be freaking out about my presentation, but… I can’t think about anything but you, to be honest.”

My cheeks feel warm.

“You’re going to do great, I think,” I offer.

He smiles, “I’m going to try… maybe I’ll do better without being so focused on it, actually… I sometimes get inside my head when I have to give grand rounds presentations and fumble the words—talk too fast…”

“I can’t wait to see you up there…” I smile.

He laughs, “Don’t get _too_ excited—it’s a pretty boring lecture.”

I reach across to grab a fry off his plate. I don’t even ask; it feels so natural. “I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“Okay, you caught me,” he smirks, “I happen to think it’s _super_ interesting and informative… but as you said this morning, I’m a huge nerd…”

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Alistair looks so nervous behind the podium. It doesn’t help that we’re all looming over him—stadium-style lecture halls must feel so _imposing_ from that angle.

I find a seat three rows from the front and smile down at him. Other people file in. We still have seven or eight minutes until the whole thing is supposed to start.

A woman with long dark down hair sits down next to me. The seating is very close. I feel like we're in the same bubble of air.

“Hi,” she smiles and pushes a piece of hair out of her face. “I'm Alice.”

“Hello,” I shake her hand and smile. I'm not used to people being so friendly.

“Have you seen him speak before?” she gestures with her eyes toward Alistair and blushes slightly.

I can't suppress a smile, “Not in _this_ setting.”

She looks at me quizzically. “Are you one of his students?”

“No… just a friend,” I mumble. _Friend_ seems highly insufficient, but he has a wife, and this stranger might know it. With _my_ luck, she's Icis’ cousin or childhood friend.

“Lucky you,” she laughs.

While I mull that over, she opens her notebook and organizes her lecture notes.

“So where do you practice?” I ask.

“Nowhere yet,” she smiles. “I'm a resident at Columbia. Dr. Theirin is one of our attendings, but he's not _mine_ —I just see him at grand rounds for presentations. His research is amazing.”

I realize I'm beaming. His successes feel like my successes, even though I have no claim to him.

“What about you? Where is your practice?”

“I'm still in school, actually,” I blush. “At BU.”

“Oh. That’s where _he_ went, right?”

I nod. I’m slightly _scared_ by how much she knows about him.

“Well, it's great that you're getting a chance to see him so early in your career—he's amazing.” Her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It's _ridiculous_. I know the feeling of an intellectual crush, but this seems extreme.

Suddenly, the lights dim. I realize the whole lecture hall has filled while we were talking.

“All right, everyone” says Alistair. “Thank you for being here. We are going to be tackling lumbar spine instability today, which is one of the most common things you'll see in practice.”

Alice winks. “Isn't he charming?”

I guess he _is_. The most charming person I've ever known, actually. The only person to ever make me feel like this—the only one I've _ever_ been in love with.

I smile and nod, then let my eyes drop back to my papers. He's provided all of us with a PowerPoint printout. He's so accommodating.

“Anders?” calls Alistair. He clears his throat, “Anders?”

I laugh and blush. I didn't hear him in the midst of all this mental chatter. “Yes, Doctor?”

He smiles, “Can I have you come up here?”

Alice prods me encouragingly.

I don't have a choice, really. When a professor asks you to come up for demonstration, you _do_ it. I manage to traverse seven strangely-deep stairs and stand next to him awkwardly.

“Fantastic,” he says. It's loud enough to be for the crowd, but he only looks at me. “I picked Anders to help me here today because I know he has _excellent_ core stability…” the crowd laughs politely.

“What are you doing?” I mouth.

He smiles.

“Okay, Anders, let me have you demonstrate some things…”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, the lecture is over. I’m actually sort of exhausted from all the planks and dead-bugs and stability testing he made me do on top of the six-ish miles we ran earlier.

Alistair is approached by a variety of students and doctors—each one with unique questions. I'm amazed by his thoughtfulness and candor in answering. He's my hero. Dorian comes up to heckle him, but eventually tells him he did a great job. Dorian also makes some sort of snide comment about my _‘fitness’_ that I try to ignore.

My deskmate, Alice, also has a _variety_ of things to say to him. I try to wait it out, but I don’t see the end in sight.

Eventually, I head for the exit, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey?” he smiles. “Can I buy you dinner?”

_How could I say no?_

“Yeah, okay,” I laugh, “where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere—you pick,” he whispers.

I'm blushing, but I can't reject him. I want to soak up as much of this as possible.

“Okay… I have to attend one more lecture to fulfill my requirements today, though—can I meet you in your room later?” I ask.

He nods and hands me a key to his room. “Just don't take _too_ long.”

 

* * *

 

 **Anders** : hey guys… what’s up?

 **Hawke** : holy shit, Andy… _where_ have you been?

I’ve been avoiding the group text because I don’t want to deal with anything judgmental. But at this point, I’ve had it. I need a _reality_ check.

 **Anders** : I’ve been fucking Alistair all week.

No one says anything for a while.

 **Anders** : and we've been going to lectures together… and eating meals together… and hanging out with his friends together… and sleeping in bed together…

 **Hawke** : Oh god, Andy…

 **Anders** : I know…

 **Merrill** : well, have you had ‘the talk’?

 **Anders** : No. I’m too scared.

 **Merrill** : what are you scared of?

 **Anders** : Listen… I already _know_ what he’s going to say… his wedding was in August—I _know_ that… I remember when Renee got the invitation last year.

 **Fenris** : if you _know_ then why are you still doing this? Furthermore, why is _he_? 

Fenris is right, of course. It’s a really shitty thing to do to Icis, but I’m _selfish_ when it comes to him.

 **Fenris** : I mean... Is this really the kind of person he is?

 **Anders** : No! I mean... I don’t know… anything, really.

I remember thinking that he’d never be the type to cheat _before_ … but we saw how that worked out… I don’t _like_ the feeling of being on the other side of it—it makes my skin crawl.

 **Anders** : I just want him so much… not just for right now—I want him forever.

 **Hawke** : Andy, I’m getting a little _concerned_ about you…

I wish he hadn’t said that exact thing. Once, in college, I got a little obsessed with something… it almost ended really badly. Hawke was the one to pull be back from the brink. He said _‘concerned’_ like that then too. In this scenario, I _know_ he’d think nothing of flying the whole gang out here to stage an intervention. I have to reassure him that I’m still sane—even if I’m not sure that’s true.

 **Anders** : I’m _okay_ , Garrett. I’m just going to go to the next lecture and try to cool off. Thanks, though.

 **Hawke** : Okay… well, we’ll see you back in Boston tomorrow.

_Oh god. Tomorrow? I’m not ready._

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow's chapter is the last of the challenge... and it's _really_ good, if I do say so myself... And then the next chapter of Coffee Shop will be published shortly after... Be sure to stay tuned. :)


	9. Seminar: Day 4, Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Alistair prepare to say goodbye. Anders blurts the ultimate secret.

* * *

**Seminar Day 4: Night**

 

* * *

 

As I push the elevator button to go up to Alistair’s room, I almost turn back. I just don’t think I can _do_ this for the third night in a row. I mean—I know I can _do_ it… I’m just not sure I should… not without some serious conversations.

I put the key into the lock and open the door. It’s dark inside. I blink a few times, trying to let my eyes adjust. He told me to meet him—he _should_ be here. Then I round the corner—a beam of light from the window illuminates his sleeping face.

All my resolve is gone—I just want to crawl into bed next to him. I sneak to the side of the bed, strip my clothes off, and slide between the sheets. True to form, he’s naked… We used to have a rule about that: _never_ come to bed dressed.

When I curl in behind his back, he stirs gently, pushing his ass against my crotch—we slot together like we’ve never been apart.

I rub my hands up and down his back until he rolls over and blinks at me.

“Sorry, I fell asleep…” he mumbles. “It was an accident.”

“You got naked, turned all the lights off, and crawled into bed by _accident_?” I laugh.

He smiles, “You got me. I just wanted to cuddle with you,” he yawns and pulls me into his chest. My head fits in that spot between his shoulder and neck like it was made for it.

“I love cuddling with you,” I blurt. The word _‘love’_ slipped out of my mouth before I could catch it. It was okay _this_ time, but I don’t want to accidentally say it between the words ‘ _I_ ’ and ‘ _you_ ’.

“Then wake me up in an hour,” he closes his eyes again and pretends to snore.

“You're the sweetest,” I kiss his cheek.

He opens his eyes. “Compared to _what_?” he asks. He's teasing me, but I like it so I play along.

“Compared to anyone else I know.”

He kisses me long and deep. Time stretches unnaturally until he lets me go.

“Andy… I'm so glad we ran into each other,” he whispers.

I nod. I wish I was braver. I'd tell him how I've missed him every day, how I never want to be with _anyone_ but him. How much I _love_ him. ...but I don't do any of that. Instead, I put my palm on the side of his face and kiss him with all the gentleness I can muster.

“I think a few of the presenters are heading down to the bar in the lobby now,” I mention.

“So what?”

“So… I thought you might want to be there… _you're_ a presenter…” I laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose.” He stares up at the ceiling, rubbing circles on the skin of my back. “But what will _you_ do?”

“I'll go with you,” I volunteer. It's a question, but I know it might have sounded like a statement. I don't want to be presumptuous, but this is going to be _my_ field too. I'd like to meet everyone.

“Really?” he asks. He's pulled and pushed us so he can look in my eyes.

“Yeah…” I run a finger along his jaw. “Of course…”

“Okay. Let's do it…” he smiles and kisses me again. It's urgent—like something that won't happen again… and I suppose it's true. This is almost the _end_.

 

* * *

 

Downstairs, the bar is filled with academic types. I carefully scan the crowd before we get in too deep—I’m wondering if anyone I know will be here. I’m hoping _not_ to run into that Steven (or whatever) person from the other night… I don’t _think_ he was a presenter, but I can’t be sure. It's not like we _talked,_ really. Thankfully, I don’t see him. The only person I _do_ know is Dorian. He’s standing near the entryway taking a phone call. He looks stressed.

“What’s going on?” asks Alistair.

Dorian holds up a finger to us. “I _understand_ , Cullen…” he pauses and rolls his eyes. “I think she’s going to be fine… this isn’t going to have a ‘ _lasting effect_ ’ on her! She barely even has object permanence…” He sighs. “Yes, I’m kidding… I _know_ that develops early…” He rubs his forehead. “Yes, of course… I’ll see you tomorrow… love you too…”

“What was that all about?” asks Alistair.

Dorian sighs, “Apparently Mia was asking for me all day.”

I blush. _That’s so effing cute_.

“...and then she couldn’t sleep—she’s been having nightmares—so Cullen called to tell me that I’m damaging our daughter’s psyche by being away this many days… not in so many words,” Dorian explains.

Alistair laughs.

“Yeah, laugh it up…” Dorian smirks. “He _implied_ that we are having the time of our lives out here while he’s stuck at home with a sobbing child…”

“We _are_ having the time of our lives,” says Alistair. He’s looking at me. “Aren’t we?” he winks.

“Dear _god_ …” Dorian rolls his eyes again. “I need a drink…” He takes off in the direction of the bar.

When he’s out of sight, I have a semi-serious question:

“When did Cullen become such a wet blanket?” I’m laughing, but there’s truth in there. He was so _suave_ before. Every time I saw him I wanted to _murder_ him for just _existing_ in that state.

Alistair almost chokes he’s laughing so hard. “He’s the _worst_ , isn’t he?”

I blush. I like hearing him say disparaging things about Cullen. It makes me feel vindicated.

“He’s just not used to being a parent… and he likes Dorian _a lot_ ,” explains Alistair. “Like… it’s _insane_ … he’s a completely different person in that relationship. He thinks Dorian is too good for him—which is true.” He pauses, looking down at his feet. “With me… he could see that I’m basically an asshole… so…”

“You are _not_ ,” I argue. Before I can stop myself, I’ve put a hand on Alistair’s cheek—in full view of everyone. I expect him to shake his jaw free, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into it.

“Thanks, Andy…”

 

* * *

 

I've said goodbye to Alistair before. It was _horrible_ when he moved out, but saying goodbye after networking with his ( _my_ ) colleagues trumps it. Even though we aren't an established couple, we met every person in tandem. We were a fixture.

On his way out of the bar, he pulls me into a side hallway.

“You were fantastic in there,” he says.

“Thanks,” I smirk. “I know a thing or two about musculoskeletal pathology.”

He laughs. “I was really surprised you knew about Dr. Gestalt’s research… that _just_ came out.”

I smile. _I’m_ pretty proud of myself too.

“So… are you turning in?” I ask. My spine curves in on itself; unexpressed emotion hovering in the air.

“Yeah, I think so…” he smiles at me. “Do you want to stay with me?”

That's the question, isn't it? _Do I want to stay_? Should I stay with him for one more night?

“I think I'd better go back to my room,” I shrug. I'm not even sure _why_ , but it feels like this is the end—the time to say goodbye. It will only be harder in the morning.

“Okay…” he looks crestfallen. “Do you want to get a drink first?” he offers, “go for a walk?”

“Okay… let's do both.”

 

* * *

 

“Anders…” he slurs. “You're going to be a fantastic doctor.”

We're outside on the sidewalk in a beam of street lamp light. He's weaving and hopping, but I'm not even drunk. I'm not sure _how_.

“You think so?” I ask.

He stops a few feet ahead of me and turns on his heel. “Yes. You're amazing.”

I blush.

“...and I knew _that_ already… but this weekend has just confirmed it,” he adds.

“How did you know?” I prod. I'm fishing for compliments, but who cares? _Sue me_.

His eyes widen.  He cups my cheek with his palm. “Because you're _incredible_. The most conscientious, remarkable, _amazing_ , person I know.”

“That's quite an endorsement,” I laugh, “but it sounds anecdotal…”

He snorts.

“And _some doctor_ told me that we can only trust empirical evidence… just this afternoon,” I tease.

“Okay, okay… way to hold my lecture against me,” he smiles.

“At least I was listening,” I shrug.

He kisses me. Deeply, strongly. Right on the mouth, in the middle of the street. It couldn't be more obvious if he tried.

“I love you,” I blurt.

_Oh shit. Fuck. What the fuck did I just do????_

He pulls back—eyeing me suspiciously. My mouth was kind of smashed against his at the time, but it’s possible he understood me. _I’m dying_.

“ _What_?” he asks.

_Pull it back, Andy. Oh shit._

“Nothing…” I stammer, “you're great… that's all.”

We stare at each other. Time stretches. His hands are still gently resting on my hips, but it feels different.

“I think we'd better head back,” I say. It's a last ditch effort to keep shit from hitting the fan. He looks miserable as he agrees, but he doesn't argue. We walk back in silence.

 

* * *

 

At my door, he kisses me goodnight.

“Goodnight, Andy.”

I smile and nod, closing the door. On the other side, I listen to his footsteps get further and further away. It hurts, but I don't know what else to do. I've blurted the ultimate secret. Now it's time to back peddle.

 

 **Anders** : Bela? I need help.

 **Isabela** : Do you know what time it is here?

I look at my watch. It’s 2am here… so 5am in Boston?

 **Anders** : sorry…

 **Isabela** : …it’s okay… What’s going on?

 **Anders** : I _love_ him.

 **Isabela** : And?

 **Anders** : I blurted something to that effect… I’m not going to be okay.

 **Isabela** : What do you mean?

 **Anders** : I just _can’t_.

 **Isabela** : ?

 **Anders** : I can’t _be_ … exist… without him. I tried to get over him before and it almost killed me. _How_ am I going to do this again?

Isabela takes a while to answer. I see the ellipsis for typing show up and disappear several times.

 **Isabela** : We’ll _help_ you. That’s what friends are for, Andy. [heart]

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to share the next major chapter of Coffee Shop. (I will be publishing it this week.) If you've been enjoying this, I'd really appreciate a comment or tweet or note on tumblr. You can find me @ponticle everywhere. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!! :)


End file.
